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February 21, 2578
Location : Enigma II

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The lamps flickered on and drove away the darkness, even under the blankets of the bed. She crossed an arm over her face and turned to the wall. For a long time, she didn't stir.

The man in the other room rushed to get read for his job, unable to condone his own laziness as always. Once she would have smirked at it; he still didn't clean up his used tools till it was too late, leaving him searching in the morning. Like past times. Ha. No more.

After a while, he knocked on her door. "Sarah, I think you're awake ... and if you're not, you need to be and get up. We'll be late."

The answer came in a short, low grumble. Her usual acknowledgment of his presence.

"Five minutes, Sarah."

The Jonah of past times would have waited for ten minutes, bonking on the door every now and then while whining about the time it took her. This Jonah left after two minutes, perhaps with a sigh — or maybe just the rush of his clothes. He seemed above emotions now, except impatience.

When he was gone, she pushed herself up. Groggy, she jerked at the web of hair covering her face. She'd have to cut it again soon, it grew so fast lately.

She got dressed, struggled for a few minutes to get her hair in a bun and went to the living room.

Over her time, she had developed a routine to start the day. Simple, quick breakfast, ignore Jonah. He had given up on trying to tie on a conversation and endured her silence. He probably did not care.

This had been the standard since he had told her that she had been reported dead to her family, and he had ignored her request to drop them a hint she was alive. It wasn't that it had been too risky for him, she could have understood that. It was the way he flat out said no, and didn't respond when she lost it. Just ... nothing, like he wasn't even here.

Was she?

Jonah had told her she had died, and he had been given her corpse to use for cloning materials. To his relative surprise, her brain hadn't degenerated as it should. He had patched her up and revived her — she dared not ask why. Scientific curiosity? Friendship?

The Jonah she remembered wouldn't have needed to be asked, he'd have fallen around her neck and probably cried when she woke up. This Jonah had just stood there, smiling dimly and asking her how she felt.

He'd been awarded some privileges for his success. It had been decided that Sullivan was just incompetent, and Jonah had much potential. He'd accepted. Now there were little Sarah clones in the works. Future hosts.

Jonah never looked her in the face, even as he sat across of her.

Robotic arms extended from the walls, ready to clean up. It served as a subtle clue reminder they had to leave. Sarah wrestled her plate from the arms and took it along to her room.

"Sarah ..."

"So I'll be late. What are you going to do, fire me?"

She finished breakfast in her bedroom, eating slowly until she heard Jonah leave. He'd go ahead alone, she'd catch the next passenger robot.

Still chewing on a croissant, she wandered back into the main room. Jonah's quarters had about five rooms, but as he'd moved only recently, they were by and large empty. He awaited some things in the next delivery, for which he'd lined up shelves. Almost like the old Jonah, who collected rare albums.

Now he seemed to collect rare genes, and Sarah was not his only prize. Central to the main room was an unlit aquarium filled with thick liquid. Sarah softly tapped the glass, which prompted a pale shape to drifted out of the deep shadow. Its large head had only one full grown eye, the other in a fetal condition. Little arms tried swimming, but most of its movement came from the tail.

It pressed its one eye against the glass and Sarah leaned closer. Though with less options, this little creature expressed more in one moment than Jonah did over weeks. She'd gotten used to the chaotic mess of emotions it poured out, understood that the creature was too young to deal with advanced thought, and so just offered her own.

Jonah had messed up his bond with the queen chimera, she wanted to do this better.

This creature was the only survivor of the malformed eggs that Kirindi's sister would lay, when out of her tank. Like them, it was capable of the same mental bonds. Sarah's mind had been opened by Kirindi, she found it easy to take hold of the soft, frail presence of this eternal fetus.

Day by day, she added in memories to the feelings, telling bedtime stories to a entity that never slept, but was as a child. Sarah chose memories of happier times, but also made sure the creature understood their current position. She explained sadness, and endurance, and struggle. Most of all, hope, though she didn't know it did any good for one who had no chance to grow up ... yet.

Sometimes it had the ghost of a smile on unformed lips, and a small limb tried to wave when she left. Sometimes it didn't.

Maybe Sarah was just selfish, maybe she only needed to talk to someone, and that she wasn't ready yet to explain. She couldn't really afford distrust from this one being that still could offer unconditional love. In a world full of monsters, one monster was her anchor to humanity.

· · · · ·

Jonah's job never required him to interact with the incubation process. As Sullivan before him, he only provided hosts. Once he might have enjoyed that lack of frustration he now had, but with all the neurological tampering, he couldn't. Surprise could be pleasant, so now and then, or negative. When he was called into the xenomorph zone for the first time since the catastrophe, he bet on the latter.

Not having much emotions didn't stop him from fretting over why he could possibly be called in. The new scientific leader of Enigma II was a more reasonable man than Sullivan, so far. It had to be serious, rather than just using him for venting, right?

After going through the tedious identification process, he entered with caution. Once, a shriek in the distance startled him. He had to force himself to relax and wished certain instincts could be shut down too.

A few scientists passed him on the way, giving a curt nod and no words. He did the same, remembered hating them and could feel nothing now.

The empty room he was led to contrasted against the stark white of the facility, and the white it had been under Sullivan's room. Now it had been redecorated with dark paint and curtains. Family pictures had been lined up against the wall, a few children's paintings taped above them. Three worn stuffed animals sat besides the desk.

It unnerved Jonah, but as always, it had no intensity anymore. He only wondered whether the man would begin to miss caring about such things, would he take the anti-telepathy regimen.

A soft hiss to the right drew his attention. Through a small second door stepped Waltraud Malcolm; an middle aged Namibian man accompanied by a cyborg identical to him. To be more specific, identical to a clone that had been ordered from Jonah a few weeks before.

Maybe he should have taken another look at the new head of science, but it hadn't occurred to him. No curiosity to motivate him.

"Hello, mister Bayard. Please take a seat," Waltraud said. He dismissed the cyborg with a wave of his hand.

Jonah sat down, eyes on the other man.

Waltraud peered out of deep sockets and his bald head didn't help the hollowed out countenance. With a slow movement, he turned his computer off and walked around the desk, taking the chair next to Jonah.

He held out his hand for Jonah to shake, which he reluctantly did.

"I am Waltraud Malcolm, I am here to run this hellhole, and you might like to know this room is so insulated nobody can hear, not even Nuitar. So, tell me why you think you are on Enigma II?"

Was this a trick question?

His skepticism must have showed, because the doctor quickly added, "No, this isn't about the Amy. It is about why you were allowed to serve as a scientist at all."

Another thing Jonah tried to forget. "I made myself useful, doctor. Did my files get lost during the break out?"

It was true, he had been allowed some privileges like walking around, and had mildly befriended the man in charge of cloning. Jonah's natural intelligence combined with his now enhanced sensory perception had proved useful in the work with cloned bodies.

"Here is another question : did you never wonder why the Direction was so quick to replace Sullivan with me, rather than letting another scientist take charge?"

"Doctor Malcolm, I would greatly appreciate it if you would be clear. I have little knowledge as to what goes on beyond my own working space."

Waltraud leaned back and waited a few seconds in what seemed a deliberate dramatic pause to Jonah.

"They all go insane."

"Oh," Jonah said. It didn't convey the questions that raised in his mind.

"Enigma II is like an experiment on itself. You must have known about Sullivan's outbursts of anger. His personal vendetta against you resulted in choosing old friends of you as hosts. This is no procedure that the Direction would condone. I hope you understand this.

You know about Mr. Schrodinger as well. Amy 3 came aboard of Enigma and began influencing him. This was because he, like many others, already had been under a great deal of influence prior to her visit, making them easy targets."

Jonah tensed up. "Do you mean that Amy 2 has been—"

The man raised his hand in a gesture that he should be calm. "No. I suggest you read the history files of Enigma 2 soon. In your new position, you have access to them. You will learn interesting things."

"Such as what?"

"Regina Insolita. They key things about her are her potent ability to drive mad people and the self destructive nature of her genes. We cannot clone her, we cannot even dissect her make up. She regenerates like no other and learns from the people who she controls. We suspect she may be sapient, yet she never goes as far as outright prove it."

"Really? And why would you be bringing this to my attention now?"

· · · · ·

Normally people had synthetics to perform menial tasks, but the Direction wasn't keen on them, so it was little nobodies with robots who did the work. Aside of Sarah, there were two more, but she had not met them often.

She didn't mind, humans were ugly to her lately and she preferred solitude. Acting civil with other humans only reminded her of how phony her relaxed life had been, when school had been the biggest enemy. She had to lock herself into a pattern as stoic as the robots she directed to fix pipes and add oils and sweep spills.

Life didn't allow for much hope, yet she went on still because, well, she still wanted to survive. For now.

Her pager beeped to her give an unwelcome message.

"Miss Driscoll, your position has been changed to serve in the inner zone, sector 8."

"Just as I got used to this ..." she grumbled.

She finished her job and returned to the hardware maintenance center to find a cyborg awaiting her.

After the typical disinfection routine, this cyborg led her to the lower levels by elevator.

At first sight, the new area didn't look very different from the halls she was used to. White, sterile and with many locked doors. The familiar holes in the corners of each wall-end indicated that the frost blasters were installed here too. Such a nicely kept hell.

As she passed by a closed area, a flash overtook her with so much strength that it blurred her awareness of her own surroundings.

A wide hall with a translucent tank at the center, which contained a writhing dark mass of mashed up biomechanic parts.

The flash faded; she must've caught a mental image seen by someone inside.

The cyborg had walked on, she hurried to catch up. Similar flashes recurred at weaker intensity, and soon disappeared.

Two more elevator changes, and they ended up at an upside down train station. Rails hung on the ceiling and a short lift led to a hanging waiting chamber, complete with magazines for the bored waiting. A cabin was at the ready though, so she didn't have time to wonder at that human detail.

The cyborg replied to questions, when prompted. According to it, these rails had their own generator apart from Utara, so one could make their way out during an outbreak. Manual driving was an option.

They passed through darkness, but not silence. A few times shrieks came from deep below, and sometimes not so deep.

Below the sound lay something else; a hum without vibration; a sterile, monotone form of Kirindi's soft mental veil; two near identical but hostile ranges.

The true hiveminds shared by these beasts, belonging to different queens. She might never have noticed if she hadn't experienced Kirindi's unison before.

When the cabin finally halted, it shook her awake despite her not having slept.

Opening the door for her was Jonah. His eyes lingered on her face before he said, "You're pale. What happened?"

She stepped out on shaking feet, but declined the hand he held out.

The cyborg closed the door behind him and returned the way they'd come, by then Sarah had found her voice. "I'm alright, just a little spooked. Can I get something to drink?"

Down the waiting room was another vast darkness, filled with fog and heat.

He brought her to a small work kitchen, which surprised her with the messy and bright environment. Colorful magnets littered the fridge, a checkered cloth covered the table and most of the dishes had funny little patterns on them.

Jonah didn't need to be told what she liked, but she hadn't expected the fridge to actually produced her preferred soda.

Once she'd gulped it down, Jonah said, "You felt their hivemind, didn't you?"

No use denying it, so she nodded.

"That's part of why you're here. You can sense them, but it apparently doesn't madden you like it does to many others. No nightmares, suicidal tendencies, increased aggression. They like that. Thanks to that and Sullivan's, ahem, own aggression, good staff is hard to come by."

Oh. Bad news. They already had their attention on her.

"I suppose I should be happy my purpose no longer is being a host," she said with a sneer.

"Sarah, look ... this isn't about heroes and villains. It's just the powerful and those who oppose them. You have a little choice now in what you'll be, that's the best I can give you."

She couldn't look him in the eyes. Jonah reached for her hand, but she took a step back.

"If you don't mind, could you leave me alone?"

"Someone still needs to show you around here," he said. "Though, I suppose the janitors can do that."

She sat down and said, "Okay, I'll wait for them."

He wrung his hands, but then nodded and left without another word.

· · · · ·

It took about half an hour before a scruffy man stumbled through the door with an apologetic smile.

"Hello there, nice to meet you," he said, holding out his hand. "Call me Jay."

"Sarah will do," she said, unable to resist breaking her intended stoic facade. She couldn't quite shake the distrust, but it had been very long since she's seen an open face.

In the flurry of the man's entrance, she hadn't immediately noticed the other, more quiet man. He shook her hand as well and muttered, "I'm Bison."

She'd seen the men in glimpses, they'd been Sullivan's assistants somehow. If they were her future colleagues, that didn't bode well, but what did in this place?

Jay gave the impression of unkempt with his messy hair, endlessly tired eyes and his coat tied around his waist to reveal a brightly colored t shirt. This was only in comparison to the local standard, though. Bison had a more subdued and professional look, and from a distance she could have sworn he was a woman; the long black hair didn't help. Both seemed from Asian descent, probably different countries, but she couldn't pin point which exactly.

"I understand you're joining our team, so how about we give you a tour?"

"Seeing as I understand exactly nothing about what I'm supposed to do, I'd appreciate that."

Sector 8 turned out to be all about the drone zoo. Having acquired (rather pricey) acid resistant alloys from other sapient species allowed some degree of security in keeping them together and observe their interaction.

Over time, drones would cover their cages with resin that took on biomechanical forms and functions, which was were Jay and Bison came in. They would harvest whatever segment the scientists had interest in, and ensure it was without acid, clean and delivered where it should be. They had three cyborg for security and assistance, but preferred to do work on their own.

They also kept track of the overall cleanliness of the lower levels, engine rooms included. Some sort of biomechanical equivalent to fungi had taken hold of damp spaces like the cooler rooms and frost reserves.

In addition, they did some low key maintenance on the cyborg's organic states. Just mandatory check ups, and fixing smaller problems. Someone up stairs handled bigger issues, but Bison took some very understated pride in avoiding that.

Down to it, they were all purpose janitors. Jay definitely fit the bill, but it became clear very quickly he had been learning. Most of everything he could name and explain correctly. Bison had a degree in microbiology, but rarely had to step in as Jay took Sarah's questions. In fact, he hardly said a word and when they walked past a corner with weird growth on it, he seemed to shut down and go into clean mode altogether.

Only after he had finished cleaning that away, and Jay had derailed into a story about fungi back on his former colony, did Bison really look at her.

"So ... this stuff here leans to you a little. Are you telepathic?"

He held out the growths, just a few centimeters of weirdness contained in a placticide case. Sarah didn't see anything unusual about it.

"Ehm ... no. I would have noticed ..." she said.

"Are you sure?" Bison asked. "Maybe you've become it."

"You know, that would explain your sudden transfer her," Jay said. "I was added to fill a void, but there's no clear reason why you're here. Unless they want you close to the drones."

· · · · ·

Jonah watched for a little through the cameras in the security base, seeing Sarah become friendly with strangers. When Waltraud entered, he turned them off, but it was too late.

"We have a surveillance system for security reasons, mister Bayard, not for this."

He said nothing, just waited without knowing what for.

"You know, I'd almost say your treatment isn't sufficient, if you feel compelled to do something like this."

Jonah shook his head. "Not a feeling, just ... the memory of it. I wasn't going to watch till I saw her smile, then I decided to see. I'm not ... I'm not getting the memories of how we used to be flooding in, I have to evoke them, but at the same time it's something I want. Still. I've been formed as an emotional human being. That hasn't changed."

"Are you testing whether you feel something, or thinking you need torture?"

"I don't know. I think she hates me, but right now it only registers as wrong without making me upset. If I ever get off this station, maybe all I would have felt will come crashing down. Maybe I'm watching it to make sure it hits home."

"Ah, I see. The structure of conscience can exist without the feeling of guilt, indeed. Maybe she will learn that emotions are a luxury here, too.

"I hope not," he said, unsure whether it was actual hope or something else. "It's not ... it shouldn't be a luxury."

"I'd say the option to even turn off emotions in a human being is a luxury, here. Isn't that how you survived Amy II? If my guess is right, ..."

He never finished the sentence, but Jonah thought he should have. If he couldn't make sense of himself, he needed the help of others, but he lacked both curiosity and motivation to make it happen.

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February 27, 2578

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After three days of quiet instruction from Bison, Sarah was allowed on her first solo cleansing routine. A few days in, this was just about to settle into a comfortable routine when she was ordered to clean up an observation passage of individual drone cages.

Jay had told her to ignore the drones and she intended to do so, but really, she couldn't escape the hivemind anyway and she had incentive to better her potential. Even before she entered the hall, she could sense the creature. No others were around, just this one.

The fungi had latched onto a harmless spot on the wall and shouldn't take long to clean, but she made slow work.

Reaching out to this drone wasn't like with the unborn in Jonah's room, but close enough.

The drone behind the glass followed her every move, pacing past the glass window and contemplating her death. Her, the enemy human.

It was a response alright, but she could not tell to what degree and she hated to be lumped in with the Enigma scientists. She was a victim here, like the creature.

Not that she could honestly blame the drones. They had no sapience, no reasoning.

In that respect, she cautioned herself against favoring them. Would they get out, these drones would kill everyone without distinction for victim and criminal.

As if to cement that, it launched itself at the glass in frustration. Sarah flinched back, but didn't turn around to look at it; just kept scraping loose the fungus.

The drone collided with the glass and sunk back, hissing.

"You waste energy," Sarah said after a moment of calming her heartbeat.

It gave a peculiar little hiss at that, almost like begging to disagree.

She got the sense that if it did it, it might as well never move until there was the chance for escape. Anger at least was something : a distraction from the inability to perpetuate the hive.

These weren't her thoughts, she realized, but she couldn't tell whether the creature gave them to her, or whether she picked them up on her own.

What did make her stop and turned was a distinct click on the other end of the drone's chamber. A hatch opened there, and the lights brightened. A camera outside the chamber switched on to record.

Odd, Jay would have told her if they meant to do a test right now. Though, it made sense, since the drone was alone here and some tests required isolation.

She pulled out her mobile and contacted Jay for details. He swiftly sent an explanation.

There hadn't been a test planned indeed, but this one would double as waste disposal somehow, so it had been rescheduled earlier. Rather more suddenly that he was used to, he added.

This drone was subject to a test to suppress their sense of smell, which was achieved by adding a specific acid to the xenomorph's bloodstream that messed them up. In its stead, hearing became even more accurate, similar to how a blind humans hearing increased. With disabling scent, the scientists hoped to get rid of one of the impulses that made drones crave for food. They did not need food, so feeding perhaps was a side-effect of the DNA Reflex.

A cloud of oddly blackish gas filled the drone's cell. A fascinating invention it was, the gas would condense only in a certain heat level and the plasticide was too cold for it. Though drones had no infrared signature, they did have internal heat. They didn't breath either, but the tiny layer of acid that condensed on their frontal lip and inner mouth was enough to do the job. From there on, it leaked into their bloodstream and damaged the scent-organs from the inside — cheaper than tying them down and trying needles.

She felt a tiny jab of pain on her own upper lip.

Next up would be something edible, which now tumbled out of the open hatch.

Sarah's mouth dropped and she covered it with a hand.

It was a human, albeit terribly malformed. One of Jonah's clones.

The poor thing crawled over the ground, wailing like an infant. The arms flayed about, the head wobbled on the neck; like a fish thrown onto the dry land.

The sting of tears almost made Sarah turn away; this was worse than what she'd seen in Jonah's laboratory. In the tanks, they hadn't moved.

The drone, as expected, did not move to attack, but Sarah hardly saw it anymore.

Only the pale thing at the other end of the cell existed, covered in blue veins and cancerous growth. It would never be fit to serve as a host, but so ... they had other uses.

"Kill it, please," she whispered, but the drone didn't respond. It found her more interesting; killing that thing, now that was a true waste of energy.

Sarah's eyes fixed on the form as it tried to crawl back into the hatch ... it could reason, then. Fragments of fear seeped into her mind, she saw the drone from another angle, felt its hostility radiate to the bone.

Worse than the beast was the body itself. Nothing fit together, and nausea clawed itself up her throat. Its throat. Her own?

"End it," she whispered again. It was so simple for the drone, it was in its instinct, it had to do it. "You were made to kill. Do it."

Made to kill indeed. She pushed and pushed, it had to be, the drone had to kill, it had to end or they'd keep reusing the clone ...

It took long, but the drone stood up at last. Too slow for Sarah's wishes, it paced around the clone and turned it over, inspecting.

Looking for its head, which it couldn't make it easily. Once it had identified that though, a quick pierce with its tongue ended it.

Sarah had expected to feel the wound, but she didn't. Maybe she had imagined it all.

The drone started to eat, yet the queasiness left her like it had never boiled up. She stood still, waiting for it to return and watching the carnage.

· · · · ·

Waltraud sat back in his seat and avoided Jonah's gaze, instead focusing on the two screens before him. One on the drone in the cell, another hidden one on Sarah.

"That was pointlessly cruel," Jonah said.

"It was an experiment, they tend to be cruel in these regions, unfortunately. No experiment is pointless here. Our benefactor is generous, but not so generous was get to play."

Jonah closed his eyes. "She might figure out we are watching her, if her telepathy grows so strong she can command a drone like that."

"Good. You see, when I said she'd lose her emotions, I meant that in the human way. Our way. Perhaps she'll adopt their way instead. Won't that be interesting?"

"Why was she really transferred, doctor Malcolm?"

"Hmm ... Nuitar requested it."

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